Guerre de la Conquête
by KobayashiNariko
Summary: "What if I said I just want to be yours?" "I'm going to protect you from what you want. You are...much too precious for me to take advantage of. Please wait...until you're a bit older." oneshot France x Canada and Slight/UKUS


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~.::*::.~Foreword~.::*::.~  
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This is my first one-shot for Axis Powers Hetalia.  
I humbly request constructive criticism; I don't mind how harsh it can be…unless you just want to tell me that you hate what I'm writing. In that case, why are you reading it?  
This is the final draft [for now].

This fanfiction was partially inspired by the song "Who Knew" by Pink as well as what Americans/the British call the _French and Indian War_ and what the Canadian's call the _Seven Years War. _This war is the reason French Canada became England's colony.  
Much of this oneshot's inspiration came from wondering how France and Canada must have felt when their countries spilt apart.

[Please note that I know next to nothing about French, so please feel free to fix any errors that you see in France's or Canada's French speech.]

So without further ado, I present to you:

**Guerre de la Conquête**

**[War of the Conquest]**

Featured Pairings: France x Canada, slight/UK x US

**by: Kobayashi Nariko**

Warnings: Light Yaoi, innocent fluff :3

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the song "Who Knew"

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_When someone said count your blessings now_

'_fore they're long gone_

_I guess I just didn't know how_

_I was all wrong_

_They knew better_

_Still you said forever_

_And ever_

_Who knew_

—"**Who Knew" by Pink**

~::~::*::*::~::~

Ages seemed to have passed since the French and Indian War and yet England still suffered the consequences of it. He had annexed New France nearly a decade ago as a spoil of victory, but his major concerns lied with the taxes he had to impose upon his own people as well as the smaller taxes he put on British America, all in an attempt to pay back war debt.  
Strangely enough though, as England crossed the Atlantic Ocean to visit his two colonies who had managed to grow much too fast in recent years, he found himself thinking quite a bit about British Canada.  
When France lost the war and had New France literally torn away from him, neither the European nation nor the newly acquired colony bothered to speak to England willingly during the immediate months that followed the peace treaty of February 1763. Eventually the newly named British Canada came to accept his place in the Empire, yet England couldn't get past the feeling that there was still quite a rift between them. He spent much of the trip to the Americas trying to figure out what would help him bridge that rift.

As usual, when England landed on American soil and reached America's home, the resident country still tackled him enthusiastically. The boy didn't seem to take into account that his hugs now crushed England given that he was now a full _three centimetres_ taller than England.  
This time however, _something_ was a bit off in his greeting and England became suspicious when the pulled back and noticed a fresh bruise on his colony's cheek

"Alfred, What in the world caused_ this_?"

"Hmn? Caused what?" Alfred suddenly seemed a tad on edge. Yes, something surely had happened.  
Arthur brought up one finger to poke the bruise; Alfred winced.

"This." He pointed it out. "What _happened?_"

"I…I, well…" Alfred looked away and fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"_Alfred."_  
At Arthur's sudden increase in volume, Alfred stood rigidly straight, snapped to attention and let out his words quickly.

"I got into a fight with Canada."

Arthur just stared in disbelief; he left the colonies by themselves for but a few years and _this_ was what happened?  
"A fight? Just what in the world did you argue about may I ask?"

"At first I was just teasing him—" Alfred started, then in response to Arthur's incredulous look, added, "_Really._ And then I said something about France and he just…got really angry and then this happened." He gestured to the bruise on his cheek.  
"So I punched back and he ran away."

"Where is he now?"

"He locked himself up in the guest room back at home."

"And he won't come out?"

"He won't even talk to me."

"Well then, there's only one thing to do." With that, England brought up one hand and grabbed America's ear. Dragging him through the mansion, England made his way upstairs to Canada's guest room.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! _England!"_

"You are going to apologize," England said resolutely as they got onto the second floor landing. The moment they got off the stairs, America jerked out of the Briton's vice-like grip.

"Why should I?" the American asked stubbornly, rubbing his red ear, "_He_ said lots of…stuff 'bout you too!"

"Well he has every reason to!" England's outburst caused the younger nation to step away in surprise.

"…What?"

England took America's shoulders firmly into his hands. "Try to understand. I tore France away from Canada. I separated Canada from the very nation who raised him. He has _every _right to hate me or say anything he wants about me."  
Looking into the colony's eyes, he found that America didn't understand what he was trying to say. Taking a deep breath, England tried another approach.

"Think Alfred. If I had lost that war against France…I would have lost _you_. How would you feel if you had suddenly become France's colony?" Finally Alfred's eyes widened with understanding and it left him speechless.

"Will you apologize _now_?" The youth just nodded numbly in response.

~::~::*::*::~::~

Finally in front of the guest room, America hesitated slightly before knocking on the door.

"Um…Canada? You there?"

No answer.

"Well, nothing to be done." America shrugged and turned around only to face a scowling England.  
After a momentary staring contest and a silent argument that involved a lot of flailing of hands (on America's part), glares (on England's part), and mouthing of words, America grudgingly accepted defeat and turned towards the door once more.

He knocked again. "Canada?"

A pause.

"…Matt? Come on, England's here to see you."

Irritated, England prodded America's side and when the colony looked over at him with a pout he mouthed the word, "Apologize."

Frowning before staring at the wooden door, Alfred finally spoke meaningfully. "Look Matt. I'm…sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

A small voice finally responded. "It's ok…I don't know why I got so angry Al." Matthew's voice was quiet as it was, so it sounded even softer than usual through the door. Thankfully it also seemed like he was standing right by the door.

Alfred grinned then asked hopefully, "Really? Will you come out then?"

"…no."

Before Alfred could say anything more, Arthur put one hand on his shoulder and walked up to the door

"Then will you let us in?" He asked gently.

"…only you."

"But—!" America stepped forward.

"America, calm down." England pulled back on his shoulder and offered an apologetic smile, "Let me talk to him."

The pout came back, but he stepped away from the door and leaned on the opposite wall. "Alright," he said.

England was now standing in front of the door as he asked, "Then, will you open the door?"  
Slowly the door creaked open only wide enough for England to slip in. Just before entering the room completely, England gave America a glance that said, "_Please _try to wait patiently."  
As he stepped in fully, Canada shut the door with one hand and locked it. Without a word, the colony then walked across the room to the far side where he sat down in a chair by the window. In his arms was a rather small polar bear, Kumajirou, fast asleep. Looking over at England he nodded towards the empty chair across from him.

"Please, do sit down." He offered politely.  
As England sat, he noticed that as Canada pointedly looked out the window he was sniffing every so often and his eyes were slightly red. On the cheek that was turned towards England, there was a bruise identical to America's.

"I heard you and America fought. Now, you don't have to tell me what you argued about. I just want to know what's wrong."

Canada looked away from the window and at England instead; he attempted to smile. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Call it intuition if you will, but the anniversary of the end of my war with France is coming up. Is that what's on your mind?"

Habitually, the northern American colony brought Kumajirou closer as he spoke, "No. Of course not…Why—?"  
He forced a short laugh as his voice cracked and tears began to betray him.  
"Why would I be bothered by something that happened in the past?"

By the end of Canada's statement, England had already got up and went forward to kneel in front of the pre-teen nation. Since the he was still firmly holding onto Kumajirou, who was still obliviously asleep, Canada refused to wipe away his tears. Slowly, England brought his hands up to get rid of them as the troubled country lowered his head.

"You miss him." With the tips of his fingers, England coaxed Canada to lift his chin.

"I do miss him…I really do, but there's no helping the fact that we lost against you. What's done is done and I don't have any grudge against you. You simply won England, and nothing can change that. I just wish…" He averted his eyes again.

England tilted his head in an attempt to catch Canada's eyes. "Wish what?" he asked.

"I wish I could keep my promise to him…" Canada's voice had become so diminutive that England had to lean forward to hear him.

"You were forced to break a promise with him…because I won the war?" England swallowed a bit too painfully.

Canada closed his eyes tightly and nodded, tipping his chin up and down only once. Sharply.  
As he did so, England felt a knot of guilt within him tighten. He rose to his feet and placed on hand on the unblemished side of Canada's face. In a fatherly…or rather brotherly fashion, he lightly pressed his lips to Canada's forehead.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered; he had been there long enough. He looked back only once before opening the door and stepping out of the room.

When he saw England's slightly troubled expression, Alfred immediately asked, "Well?"

"…I have an idea." England smiled suddenly.

"Hmn?"

"I think I know how to cheer him up. Lend me your ears."

~::~::*::*::~::~

By the end of the week, the three nations were on a ship bound for Europe. As far as Canada knew, they were heading to his caretaker's homeland. However, it became obvious to him that they were definitely _not_ in England when the ship finally stopped at the port.

"England…This isn't your country." Canada choked.

"I know, " England said smiling, " Let's go. Someone's waiting for you."

Canada followed wordlessly, his eyes bright and wide as he took in the scenery and smells and the—oh!—the beautiful sound of the language…his first language, the self-proclaimed language of love.  
They weaved though the city until they came finally to a house that Canada recently believed that he would never see again.

"Ah, well now. This is certainly a surprise." Was the resident country's reaction when he saw England, America and Canada at his doorstep.

"France, just so you know, I'm not here for you" England said stiffly as he tossed Canada's travel bag into the Frenchman's arms, "Canada missed you."

"_Oui_…" France smiled then faltered a bit. "Unfortunately I owe you now."

"Hmph, hardly. This was for Matthew." England turned away to smile warmly towards Canada. "America and I will be back in around 2 weeks. Take care of yourself."  
Canada was still happily speechless so he just nodded and entered France's household.

Just as the door closed behind them, England started to lead America away, his mind preoccupied by how familiarly France had wrapped one arm around the young colony's shoulders and pulled him close.  
It made England jealous; compared to the recent tension he had with America…everything seemed just dandy between the two French speakers.  
America allowed all but two seconds for England to get lost in his thoughts before he spoke up. "So now we're going to your house?"

England snapped out of it and replied enthusiastically, "Yes. Just wait until you see what I have plan—"

"England!" From behind, the two leaving nations heard Canada call out. Just as the island nation turned around the Canadian tackled him with a big hug.

"Thank you," He said, "And France said '_Merci'_, but he didn't want to say it directly to you…ah oops…I wasn't supposed to say that…" Matthew pulled away, slightly flushed at his slip of tongue.

"You're very welcome Matthew. If anything happens, do send a letter to London."

Before returning to the house, Canada gave a quick hug to his brother as well. "Have fun in London…and please don't get hurt or something…" Canada said and added in his mind, _especially by doing something stupid._ Which was often what America was prone to do as well as what England constantly strove to prevent.

~::~::*::*::~::~

Finally parting ways with England and America, Canada found himself back in the entrance hall of France's large home.  
"France?" He called out tentatively as he padded down the hallway. The young colony caught sight of Kumajirou going into the kitchen.

"Kumakichi~?" Matthew turned the corner just in time to see France turn around to smile down at the cub who lumbered into the kitchen. From the looks of it, he was getting ready to cook dinner.  
France then looked up at Canada; he had tied his hair back into a small ponytail so it wouldn't get in the way. A few locks of hair framed his face, and there were a few strands that found their way in front of France's eyes. In a sudden instinctive motion Canada moved forward to tuck the renegade strands behind France's ear, only just registering the intimacy of his action a moment afterward.  
Turning bright red he stepped away and twisted his hands behind his back; his voice refused to work so he settled for staring at the ground and waiting for France's reaction.

Suddenly he felt a hand come down and tuck part of his hair behind his own ear. He snapped his head up to find France's face all but a few inches away. The elder nation was smiling softly; his lips had only just parted to say something when a soft rumble was heard in the vague direction of Canada's stomach.  
France pulled away, laughing lightly as his former colony turned a brighter shade of red, if possible.

"You must be very hungry. It was a long trip no? Would you like to help cook?"

The awkward tension hovering over them from the silent moment that skirted around the line between intimacy and simple closeness finally faded away as Canada nodded enthusiastically. Cooking with his former caretaker was actually one of the most enjoyable things Canada did with France. Much of their cooking was just a seamless dance through the kitchen.  
No words were spoken as only the sounds of cutting vegetables and clinks of utensils filled the air.  
They didn't even need to ask each other for various items. Each paid attention to the work of the other so they both anticipated what the other wanted and only a moment later they would give each other what was needed.  
The comfort and familiarity of the situation brought about small blushes—on Canada's part—and amused smiles—on France's part.

Actually eating that dinner was not as enjoyable as cooking though. There was nothing wrong with the food; no, the food was wonderful. Rather there was something a bit off about France and it unnerved Canada. Between bites, Canada finally managed to comment on something that had bothered him since they had started cooking.

"…Did something happen to your shoulder?"

France appeared surprised and briefly considered lying before realizing that Canada's keen perception would likely see right through any false words. He sighed instead and sat back as he answered. "You noticed?"

"_What happened?"_

Slightly stunned at Canada's suddenly sharp voice, France's gaze dropped to his plate.  
"It…It's just a wound from that war with _Angleterre_."

"But shouldn't have all of the injuries be healed by now?" Yes, Canada was much too perceptive. However, this wound had stayed with him for only one reason: it was the injury he had received from England when Canada was cut away from the French empire once and for all. For fear of making his former colony guilty, France had never told him about the shoulder injury.

France attempted a smile to allay the youth's worries. "Well, this is just a persistent one that's all."  
And so he closed the conversation; disappointed at the sudden dropping of the subject, Canada didn't speak up for the rest of dinner.  
Afterwards, France invited Canada to the balcony, where the cool evening air was, in France's opinion, a perfect atmosphere to enjoy wine in. Canada noticed that he brought out his favourite type of wine.  
The railing of the balcony was more than wide enough to set the bottle and two glasses on top; the Frenchman filled his glass generously and only filled half of Canada's, keeping in mind that the ex-colony was but an adolescent.

The twilight scenery seemed too perfect and his being with France like this after so much time apart also seemed to be too good to be true. Canada stared down at his glass of wine, swishing it around a bit as he felt his vision blur slightly. Blinking, he realized that as much as he hated to break such a peaceful moment, he had quite a lot he needed to say to France and if he didn't, he would simply burst.  
Suddenly he felt a finger lightly brush the corner of his eye. Startled, he turned towards France's concerned expression, but his sight quickly blurred again as excess moisture invaded his eyes. He set the delicate glass on the small glass table situated in the balcony as he took a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry." The Canadian sniffed involuntarily as he took a step back, away from France's outstretched hand.

"For what?"

"…I broke our promise."

"Promise?"

~::~::*::*::~::~

"_France!"  
Francis's North American colony rushed up excitedly, nearly tripping on his way to the Frenchman. Grinning, France scooped up the little colony and spun around a few times, causing the child to fall into a fit of giggles._

"_How are you mon cher?" France asked as he placed a kiss on each cheek in greeting._

"_Good." The child answered smiling, but a surprisingly serious look came onto his young face a moment later. "I have a question."_

_The elder country was taken aback for a moment, but he urged Canada on. "Go ahead."_

"_We'll always be together right?"_

"_Of course. What would make you think about this?"_

"_I talked to America a while back and he told me he was going to be with England _forever._"_

"_Oh? Then how about this: Let's make a promise."_

"_That you will stay with me forever?" Canada's young eyes grew large with hope._

"_Forever." France promised with a confident smile and was rewarded by a small kiss on his cheek from the child-nation._

~::~::*::*::~::~

Leaning against the railing, France gazed straight at the younger nation as he remembered the promise he made many, many years ago. Sighing and shaking his head he said, "…that broken promise is not your fault."

"It may as well be." Canada turned away from France and gripped the railing in front of him. " If I had fought harder—If I was able to defend my land better…then we would still be…we would still…" the tears were making it harder and harder for Canada to speak coherently.  
France couldn't bear seeing Canada in this state, but as he approached the youth, Canada backed away. Frowning, he continued to move forward till Canada hit the corner of the balcony. Taking the young country by surprise he wrapped his arms around Canada's slender torso and lifted him up so he could seat him down on the balcony railing.

"France!" Nervous of the height behind him, Canada hastily clutched France's shoulders. Unabashedly, France came forward to wrap his arms firmly around the Canadian's waist.

"I've got you, don't worry." He reassured his former colony. Briefly, Canada's grip on his shoulders tightened before he was pulled in one more step so Canada could slip his arms around the taller man's shoulders.

"I'm sorry." The muffled apology repeated itself many times into France's shoulder until the Frenchman pulled Canada back and said firmly,

"It was not your fault Matthieu. If anyone is to blame for breaking our promise, it is I. As the father country, it was my job to protect _you_…and I couldn't do that. _Non, mon amour,_ don't blame yourself."

Matthew pouted, knowing there was no way to convince France that it really _was_ his fault; it must have been. Why else had they lost? Obviously it was something lacking in Canada's will to stay with France…or so he believed.  
"Alright…" He relented, sighing softly and looking away, out towards the dimming sky.

"What else is on your mind mon cher?"

Canada looked back at France, cheeks still wet from untouched tears. "It's just that…I only have two weeks to stay here with you. It doesn't seem like a very long time now."

"Yes, two weeks is hardly forever, but we should make the most of it _non_?" France's voice had lowered ever so slightly as he spoke and went forward to kiss the corner of Canada's eye once more. Of course, with France being France, he also took this chance to lick one remaining tear away with the tip of his tongue…  
And he would have sworn that no one he had gotten this close to had ever turned that deep of a red colour so fast; and that was saying something, given how many people France had managed to get this close to.  
Mock-seriously he kissed Canada's cheek 'till he came to just graze the corner of the youth's lips. At this point he couldn't keep up the serious façade, the younger nation's absolutely priceless expression caused him to burst out in a fit of laughter.

As it subsided he apologised. "Ah, forgive me, but even I know not to become so serious with such a pure child like you. There's no need for you to be tainted by me."

Canada frowned as his brow furrowed in frustration; he would admit that he was still a child compared to France, but there was no need for the elder nation to tease him so. Taking a leaf out of his brother's book, he did something completely without thinking.  
It took all but a moment for him to wrap one hand around the back of France's head to make sure the elder wouldn't move as he leaned down to kiss him. The Frenchman didn't immediately break away like Canada thought he would; instead he uncharacteristically stood stock still, his only movement was a slight tightening of his safety grip on the youth. With France unmoving, Canada was ultimately disappointed with his first kiss and became all the more unhappy with France's response when he pulled away.

"You shouldn't do such cute things…" France whispered as he pulled Canada off of the balcony railing, "I may just lose control."  
Stubbornly, Canada curled his fingers around the fabric of the front of France's shirt. Leaning against the taller man he responded, "I wouldn't mind." His grip on the cloth tightened as he looked up, "What if I told you that I just wanted to be yours?"

"I'm going to protect you from what you want. You are…much too precious for me to take advantage of. Please wait…until you're a bit older." France pleaded with the wilful adolescent.

"But who knows the next time I'll be able to see you after these two weeks—"

France cut him off sharply. "_Canada."_

Startled by France's suddenly harsh tone, Canada tilted his head down, unable to face the elder country's frown. Sighing, France gently put his arms around the boy's smaller frame and brought down his head till he could rest it atop Canada's silky hair, so much like his own.

"Just because we're separate nations now doesn't mean we can't still be together forever." France explained after a moment of pensive thought, "Just because we were separated for a short amount of time doesn't mean we've broken our promise. You should know better, I never go back on my promises. There's more than one way for you to be with me."  
Stepping back he put his hands on Canada's shoulders; bending down so he could see on the younger nation's eye level, he smiled broadly. "If we can't be together physically, then you have to keep me in here." He lightly tapped on Canada's chest, right over his heart.

"That way I'm never far away from you. Do you understand?"  
Canada nodded slowly; his trust and confidence in his former caretaker renewed; if France had promised him forever then forever they would be.

~::~::*::*::~::~

"_Je t'aime France."_

Lounging on the couch, France let his eyes idly trace patterns into the ceiling. Those words—the very words Matthieu had whispered every so softly just before he left with England and America at the deadline of their two weeks together—kept ringing in his ears and consumed his mind. A wistful sigh escaped as he let his eyelids slip down.

"…Don't say such things just before you have to leave…" he muttered to the air and slid one arm to rest over his eyes to keep them from opening again. He would rather relive that moment for as long as he could.  
One day ago, Matthieu had all of his luggage ready to go when England and America arrived to pick him up. He had gone down half of the steps of the front of the house before turning back to give France one more hug. In that moment he had whispered those words, taking full advantage of the fact that he was able to swiftly turn around and say his final goodbye metres away from the front door.

As if mocking his attempt to remember the feeling of Matthieu's breath on his ear, a sudden…sound…came from under the couch. First if was a bit of scuffling and then something like a yawn.

Startled, France whipped up, but he dared not to get off the couch—who knew what was under there? There was a bit more scuffling, and finally France became curious enough to bend over the edge of the couch till his head was hanging down to see what was underneath.

The view of an upside-down Kumajirou greeted him.

France blinked.

Kumajirou blinked back. "Who are you?"

"Eh…I'm France…Shouldn't you be with Matthieu?"

"Who?"

"…Canada, your owner."

"Oh."

Amused, France sat back up and chuckled a bit over his initial worry when he first heard Kumajirou moving about. With a smile still plastered over his face he got off the couch and crouched to pick up the cub. Wrapping the polar bear in his arms he allowed Kumajirou to doze in his arms. Suddenly his lips split into a wide grin.

"Well…I think I have just found the excuse to pay my little Matthieu a visit."

Carrying the cub in one arm, he started towards his room to pack a few bags. He would be taking the next ship to Canada.

He had promised forever after all.

~::~::*::*::~::~

**Depending on the response I get to this oneshot, I may make it into a doujinshi^^ Please tell me what you think~ [A link to my DeviantArt is on my profile page if you would like an example of my art. :D]**

**Oh, and if someone catches the **_**Waiting for Godot **_**(By Samual Beckett) quote that I used in this oneshot, he or she will get one art request for a digitally coloured piece. ^_~ All you have to do is review and point out the line that comes from the play **_**Waiting for Godot.**_


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